


Fragments

by kirallea



Category: Xena: Warrior Princess
Genre: Character Study, F/F, Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-16 17:47:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12347568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirallea/pseuds/kirallea
Summary: Gabrielle, Sappho’s poetry, and the process of becoming an adult.





	Fragments

Gabrielle might be young, but what she lacks in age and experience she makes up for in imagination. She’s five years old and sits outside in the sun with friends, engrossed in the stories told by a village elder. The elder’s face is carved with wrinkles, but her eyes are bright and young, a deep shade of brown. Gabrielle wants to be just like her when she grows up: wise and worldly and warm-hearted, a storyteller with an endless supply of tales. 

This is when she learns of a poetess called Sappho. She learns that Sappho lives on an island not too far from here, that she has a talent for painting pictures with words. The elder goes on to recite one of Sappho’s poems, pronouncing the words with slow precision, delivering the lines with great pathos. She tells a story of Aphrodite descending from the heavens to comfort Sappho, a magical meeting between two powerful women. Gabrielle is not exactly sure what the reason for Sappho’s torment is, and she doesn’t really even care; she’s far more interested in Aphrodite, a figure she’s already familiar with. She envisions Aphrodite riding through the sky in her chariot, radiant and larger-than-life, finally touching down to Earth. This version of Aphrodite is elegant and eloquent, sympathetic to Sappho’s pleas but also firm. Years later, Gabrielle will look back on this and chuckle, thinking of her friend.

The elder’s voice fades into background noise as Gabrielle’s mind conjures up visions of Aphrodite; a beautiful goddess sending spells everywhere, people falling into each other’s arms as soon as her magic takes effect. Gabrielle has to clamp a hand over her mouth to stop herself from giggling. This is all comical to her, the thought of men and women locked in a passionate embrace, puckered lips inching closer and closer. She can’t imagine ever acting like that; it’s such a bizarre concept to her, feeling the need to hug and kiss someone other than her own family members. She’s not even interested in any of that; all she wants is to spend time with her friends, laughing and playing and going on adventures. It’s all she knows and it’s what she loves. 

The midday sun burns down from a cloudless sky, warm on her face and legs. Tiny golden dust particles dance in the air, tickling her nose and throat. 

It takes Gabrielle a moment to realize that the elder has fallen silent. She knows what comes next: a chorus of thank-yous, the elder’s face lighting up at the sound of their voices. Gabrielle gets to her feet and runs off with her friends, the poem long forgotten. But there’s one name that sticks in her mind, a name she will never forget: Sappho.

\--

Gabrielle is a young woman. She’s thirteen years old and sometimes stays up longer than she should. She sits on the floor of their room with her back against the bed, unrolling scrolls by candlelight, careful not to awaken her sister. She would have done this before bedtime, but she was busy the whole day, and she can’t wait any longer, not even for a second more. Sleep, rest – nothing is more important than this.

New poems by Sappho. Gabrielle managed to borrow them from a neighbor, a nice elderly man who shares her passion for literature. She’s supposed to return the scrolls as soon as possible, which gives her all the more reason to do this right now, right here. 

The parchment feels rough under her fingertips, rustling softly as she unrolls it. Gabrielle treats it with care, her movements almost comically slow. She takes her time reading the poem, tasting the words on her tongue, cherishing every line. The day has been long and tiring, but she’s wide awake now, overwhelmed by the feelings coursing through her. 

Sappho never disappoints. Her poems are perfect in every aspect, Gabrielle thinks: beautiful, vivid descriptions of love in all its forms. Gabrielle has never been in love; she only has a vague idea of what it’s supposed to feel like. According to these poems, it’s a deep and profound emotion, sometimes delightful, sometimes devastating, almost frightening in its intensity. Gabrielle is almost scared of it, scared of the destructive potential of love, the vulnerability of loving another person, but at the same time, she knows that’s not what love is supposed to be like. The couples she knows seem content with their lives – no earth-shattering emotions, no frantic fears, just happiness and peace and moments of passion. That is something Gabrielle wants to experience too, at some point in her life.

It’s starting to dawn on Gabrielle that in order to become a great storyteller like Sappho, one must feel deeply. And if she wants to feel deeply, she needs to live her life to the fullest, meet new people and experience new things, all kinds of things. It’s not something she can accomplish here, in this place – there’s a whole wide world out there, waiting for her, a world full of possibilities, and really, how is she supposed to understand the full spectrum of human emotion if she doesn’t take this chance?

Gabrielle keeps reading until she can’t keep her eyes open any longer. She puts away the scrolls and crawls under the covers but sleep doesn’t come. She’s more inspired than ever, longing for a life of adventure and fulfillment, writing poems in her head until she can’t find any more words.

\--

Gabrielle feels like she’s starting to understand what life is about. She’s nineteen years old and has been away from home for a while now, traveling from village to village with Xena, visiting places she has never even heard of. It’s been an eye-opening experience, and the lessons she has learned have been invaluable, real and relevant and not always pleasant. Lesson one: there is more cruelty in the world than she could have ever imagined. Lesson two: things are never black and white, never simple and straightforward. Lesson three: she’s capable of feeling so, so much.

She still doesn’t know Xena that well, hasn’t been able to break down the walls she’s built around herself, but she’s smart, she’s observant; she notices things. Gabrielle crouches on the ground beside a man she just knocked out, panting hard, eyes darting between his unconscious form and Xena. Xena is fighting two men at once, and she’s vicious, wielding her sword with the strength and finesse of a seasoned warrior, her eyes full of fire. The two men are injured, struggling, and Gabrielle knows this will be over very, very soon. 

Gabrielle takes it all in. She sees a woman who has hurt herself more than anyone ever could. She sees her courage, her determination to make up for her mistakes. Xena never lets her guard down, her emotions hidden and under control, but here, in the heat of the battle, she bares her soul in a way she usually doesn’t, anger and frustration and hurt written all over her face. Gabrielle’s heart aches in response, and then it feels like her body is burning from the inside, delicate fire and tremors and cold sweat, too many things all at once.

Gabrielle closes her eyes and thinks, _let me help._

\--

Gabrielle is not old, but she has seen better days. She’s twenty-two years old and injured enough to not be able to walk. She sits awkwardly on Argo, arms wrapped around Xena’s waist, holding on tight; the last thing she needs is to break her leg. 

She glances down at her ankle, grimacing at the sight. It’s even more swollen than earlier, the skin dark with bruises. A battle against a warlord and his men took an unexpected turn when she tripped over a root and felt her leg give out from under her. They managed to win the battle, but Gabrielle was hardly in the mood to celebrate. She knows it’s nothing to be worried about, just a sprained ankle; she just needs to take it easy for a while, and then this will be nothing but a painful memory.

“Everything alright?” Xena asks, easing Argo down to a walk.

“I’m fine. Just tired.”

“Let’s call it a day,” Xena says. “This place looks nice.”

They’ve come to a lake, the water clear and calm, the surface smooth as glass. Xena hops off and turns to help Gabrielle down.

“Easy.” Xena’s voice is low, soft. Gabrielle can feel the heat of Xena’s palm on the small of her back, her hand steadying her as she sways on her feet. Xena wraps an arm around Gabrielle’s shoulder, letting her lean on her as they walk over to a nearby rock, Gabrielle careful not to put any weight on her injured leg. Gabrielle sits down with a huff, stretching her leg out in front of her. 

“Wait here,” Xena says. “I’ll be right back.”

Gabrielle wants to help her, but then again, she also wants her leg to heal properly. She takes a deep breath and looks around. The sun is starting to set, painting the sky with shades of gold and orange and yellow, the colors bouncing off the surface of the lake. It’s a beautiful sight, invigorating and calming all at once, the magical moment between day and night. Just being here is enough to make her feel better: the tension in her body is easing, the pain in her leg barely noticeable, easy to ignore. 

Xena emerges a moment later, dropping an armful of sticks on the ground. 

“Okay,” Gabrielle says. “Let’s get the fire going.”

“I’ll catch us dinner.” Xena is already taking off her armor. She’s clearly in a good mood, smiling to herself as she kicks off her boots, exhilarated after a good day of fighting, or maybe at the prospect of going fishing. It takes Gabrielle a moment to realize that she’s smiling too, the corners of her lips turned up, just slightly.

She arranges the kindling and is just about to start rubbing sticks together when a splash catches her attention. Xena is up to her ankles in water, wading further into the lake. She’s hunched forward, watching the water like a hawk, fingers wiggling in anticipation. Gabrielle can hear her mumbling something in a low sing-song voice, a one-sided dialogue with the fish. Gabrielle is smiling like an idiot now, her cheeks aching from the stretch. 

Being here with Xena, in this moment, reminds her of something, a poem she heard years ago. Her mind fills with words, then with images, vivid and fresh and clearer than ever. Gabrielle closes her eyes and thinks about all of it, apple trees and shaking leaves and soft winds, and her heartbeat is strong in her chest.

She thinks she understands, finally.


End file.
